His Rebel Angel
by paynesgrey
Summary: Claire busts Peter out of prison, and he realizes how thankful he is to have her on his side. Future AU. Platonic Peter x Claire. Some implications and Season 4 speculations. ONESHOT.


AN: Written for the "Hope" prompt at pairechallenge on Livejournal.

His Rebel Angel

Peter's head snapped up when he heard the door of his prison cell creep open. It was unusual for anyone to open that door; the guards stayed away and kept him solidly under lock and key. His body tensed to the shape of his visitor as the outside light made a silhouette of her body before him. She stepped into a sliver of light.

"Are you just going to sit there or do you want to get out of here?" she asked with her usual sarcastic drawl.

"Claire?" He didn't know how to feel. He hadn't seen Claire in months, and though he knew death wouldn't stop her, he always had that protective fear for her in the forefront of his mind.

He jumped up and wanted to hug her, but her anxious disposition backed him off, and instead he dropped his hands to his sides and met her eyes in adoration.

"There's no time for family reunions, Peter. We have less than three minutes to get out of here. Rebel is only giving me a small window to free you," she said. She discarded her long black coat and handed it to him. "Here, as you know, it's pretty cold outside. I have an extra coat underneath."

She turned heel and he automatically followed her, speeding up to catch her pace.

"Rebel is still around?" he asked, and she made a noise of affirmation.

"He's been lying low, but he thought it was pretty important to spring you free," Claire said. She turned around and met his eyes with a quick glance. "Look in the pockets. The gloves will keep you from taking any powers and losing all of them you took from Sylar."

Peter shook his head. "I don't need them." She stopped momentarily but soon kept jogging, glancing back at him. "I've learned how to control them all."

"How?" she asked, still moving. The escape route seemed endless, but soon they arrived at the entrance and Peter saw the unconscious guards, possibly from a gas that had a residual scent in the air. Peter guessed that was Rebel's doing too. They stepped outside, and Peter felt the cold snow seep into his thin shoes.

"I had a lot of time to think in that jail cell, five months time in fact," he said with light humor. "It gave me time to concentrate on my powers. Everyone's power has evolved, and mine devolved because of the formula. I think I have it back to its original state. The only thing is I was unable to hang onto Nathan's flight."

"We can do without flight for now, but I'm glad you can control your powers. That must have been what the Rebel was counting on," Claire said. "I'm sure there's someone in the Resistance you can get flight from." When they reached the top of a hill, they ducked into some cover by a nearby cluster of trees. Claire turned around and met him with a small smile. "Peter."

"Now can we have that family reunion?" He gave her a crooked grin. "It's been a long time." She nodded and fell into his arms, and he clutched her tightly, feeling warmer and thinking of old times again.

"It's good to see you again, and now that you're back, the Resistance will be stronger than ever," Claire said, and she seemed more hopeful to him than he'd ever seen. He'd been worried about Claire, about the darkness that was seeping into her, an influence he blamed on Sylar and Noah and Nathan's past mistakes. He was sure he influenced some of that darkness too, but now Claire's demeanor seemed lighter.

He'd seen a dire future with her, dark haired and leather-clad where she was shooting at him meant to kill. He never wanted to see that future again.

Peter lifted his hand and stroked her face lightly. She closed her eyes, and he almost forgot he'd been locked up in a cell for five months. Claire always made him forget the bad things, just by being in her presence.

He moved back and sighed, and she pulled away and smiled sweetly at him, and he noticed the light awkwardness that swelled between them whenever they became too close. "Thanks for springing me out of jail. I take it we're on our way to see Rebel?"

"And many more who want to oppose these concentration camps." Claire glanced back at the prison facility plopped in the middle of a frozen wasteland. They were lucky to find a scant cluster of trees for cover. Peter shivered, feeling the cold in his bones after being outside for too long.

"Then let's get going. I have five months of work to catch up on," Peter said defiantly. Claire smiled brilliantly at him, and her eyes twinkled when they met.

"It's good to have my old hero back."

"Same to you, though I do have to ask one thing," Peter said, the mood lightening amidst their mission to increase the Resistance.

"And what's that?" Claire asked, stopping and turning to him. Her teeth began to chatter. Even in winter Claire wasn't invulnerable to feeling the cold, and neither was Peter with his reservoir of Sylar's stolen powers.

"What's with the red hair? I know you're trying to disguise yourself, but I expected brown," he said cheekily.

Claire laughed and put her arm through his. "The enemy expects brown too. They know I've been changing my disguises. Besides, I look good with red."

Peter's grin widened. "I have no complaints there."

"Come on, let's get back," she said. She moved a couple steps ahead of him, and Peter watched her from the back, feeling a sense of pride swell inside him.

In another time, Claire Bennet shot and killed him. She called him a terrorist and worked for thugs and dirty politicians. She put being a Company Girl over her family. Seeing Claire now, Peter was glad that time never came to pass.

They still had to fight thugs and dirty politicians, but now Claire was on the side where she should be – _his_ side. Peter never wanted to lose her to anyone else. Just as she belonged next to him, he belonged with her. She busted him out of jail to fight for people like them, and nothing else convinced him that Claire was on a greater path.

She was strong and capable, and far enough away from the clutches of Sylar to shun his poison. And when she talked of rebellions and used her strengths to help others with abilities, Peter had hope for her.

He saw them together as a fortuitous equation. The cheerleader he once saved had saved him in more ways than she'd ever know, and for so many times he'd blissfully lost count.

END


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